


Concupiscent

by heavy_cream



Series: Embers [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 6k words of smut, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual, Consensual Sex, Dry Orgasm, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Gay Sex, Graphic Description, M/M, Mating, Mating Moon, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, everyone is really into everything, how is that even a tag omfg, no words minced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 08:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23848192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavy_cream/pseuds/heavy_cream
Summary: Derek looks away slightly and Stiles watches fascinated because unless he’s completely wrong, Derek is embarrassed.“The blue moon is also known as the mating moon,” he finally says and Stiles can’t even believe what is happening in his life anymore.“Oh my god you gethorny?” Stiles blurts out and Derek looks at him in dismay.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Embers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/624602
Comments: 27
Kudos: 446





	Concupiscent

**Author's Note:**

> Due to our current, frankly bizarre circumstances, I find myself with an extraordinary amount of time on my hands. So, of course, I am going through my WIP folder and there are like 3 almost complete stories for this verse??? All of them smutty too. 
> 
> So please, have some truly filthy sex.

“Derek is hiding something.”

Scott raises his brows as he chews on greasy diner eggs. It had become a tradition ever since Stiles had come back to Beacon Hills to have breakfast once a week, in a sort of grown-up version of hanging out. It’s a good routine, one that helps both of them to keep in touch without having to actively plan or figure out schedules since they eat at the same place at the same time every week. 

Scott swallows. “Okay?”

Stiles gestures with his fork, clearly annoyed that Scott wasn’t reacting properly to the comment. “I mean it, he’s hiding something.”

“He’s always hiding something,” Scott jokes in between bites because Derek and secrets are homonyms by now, but Stiles’ silence has him looking up and is surprised to see Stiles looking back at him seriously.

“Not from me,” he says quietly and Scott instantly changes his tune.

“Hey did something happen? Is it, err, our ‘side job’?” Scott asks in a stage whisper, even as he tries to think of anything strange that might have happened recently, but Stiles is already shaking his head.

“No, it’s nothing about that. It’s more like... he’s acting a bit strange.”

“Strange how,” Scott asks carefully because ‘strange’ in their world usually means someone is possessed by something old and dangerous and cranky. 

“He’s not possessed or anything,” Stiles reassures him as the mind reader that Scott secretly thinks he is. “I didn’t mean strange in that way. It’s more like he’s distracted, he zones out in the middle of doing the dishes or watching TV.” 

“Okay but everyone zones out doing the dishes or watching TV,” Scott repeats carefully and Stiles shoots him another annoyed look. 

“Yes but sometimes it’s in the middle of a conversation.” 

“Stiles, I love you man, but everyone sort of zones out when you talk because... you know... you talk a lot.” 

Stiles stares at him then. “I have a feeling that you are not taking me seriously here.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll fulfill my best friend duty. So, I guess you are pretty sure this is not a supernatural thing but more like, uh, relationship thing?” Scott asks, making a face because for all that they are adults and have gone through hell and back together, the ‘Stiles and Derek Relationship Thing’, caps included, is not something they talk about.

“No, I don’t think that’s it either,” Stiles answers and then frowns. “Well, maybe.”

“Is he cheating on you? Cause I could probably tell if he is next time I see him. Bring him over for dinner and I’ll smell him,” Scott says completely serious and Stiles inhales his coffee. He sputters as he puts down the cup and attempts to clean the mess he’s made even as his nose is on fire.

“Christ no, what is wrong with you? Jesus,” Stiles wheezes in between coughing fits. 

”Oh man, for a moment there I was worried I would have to go and defend your honor.”

Stiles presses his fingertips to the side of his nose, hoping to alleviate the pain of his burned nostrils. “God I don’t even know why I talk to you sometimes,” he whines nasally and Scott laughs. 

Stiles glares at him. “Shut up, I’m not a maiden whose honor you need to defend. Besides I don’t think he’s cheating on me or anything like that, it’s just that we agreed on no secrets. It’s one of our relationship rules.”

Scott raises his brows. “You have relationship rules?”

“Well really just two,” Siles says and holds up two fingers. “Don’t lie and don’t keep secrets.”

“You guys really don’t have secrets between you? Like, seriously none?”

“Experience has showed us that we do really stupid things when we keep secrets.”

“Huh,” Scott continues eating his breakfast and then stops. “Wait, does that mean you know how much money he really has.”

This time it’s Stiles' turn to be surprised. “Well yes but I’ve known that since high school.”

“How loaded is he really?”

“Scott, buddy, you are kinda missing the point here.”

“Aw man,” Scott complains and then sighs at Stiles' look. “Yeah fine okay, so now he’s broken the cardinal marriage rule of not keeping a secret-”

“We are not married.”

“Oh please, you are so married since like a decade ago.”

“We didn’t know each other a decade ago.”

“Stiles I’m this close of stabbing you with this fork.”

“Alright, alright jeez, so delicate, maybe it’s a werewolf thing, all the mood swings.”

Scott frowns. “Derek is having mood swings?”

“Well kinda. It’s more like he’s just really intense about things, which I know, nothing unusual except it is, because when he’s grumpy he’s really grumpy, and when he’s happy he’s all smiley and when he’s horny-”

Scott lifts a hand. “Okay stop I get it. Thanks.”

Stiles grins. “I mean let me tell ya, that full moon sure is a blessing if you know what I mean and there are two of them this month!” Stiles wiggles his brows and Scott throws a packet of sugar in his face.

Stiles laughs but stops when Scott suddenly jolts in his seat.

“Wait what did you say?”

“What?”

“There are two full moons this month?”

“Yeah, the next one is in two weeks on Halloween actually.”

“It’s the blue moon,” Scott says and Stiles blinks.

“What?”

“It’s the blue moon. You don’t know about the blue moon.” Scott repeats and Stiles grabs his wrist with startling strength.

“Tell me everything.”

***

“ _Honey_ I’m home.”

Derek looks up as Stiles enters the kitchen where he’s working on his laptop.

“Honey?” Derek asks confused because that’s not one of the endearments they use for each other, which means something is afoot. Stiles smiles sweetly at him, with dimples and all. Derek narrows his eyes suspiciously because Stiles did spend considerable time out of the house, and he’s about to ask what he’s up to when Stiles reaches out to card his fingers through his hair. Derek instantly melts into the touch, eyes falling shut without any permission on his part, and then lets out a satisfying rumble when Stiles gently scratches his scalp.

Stiles watches quietly, carefully cataloging which movement garners what reaction, even as he thinks about Scott’s conversation. Stiles drags his hand down to Derek’s neck, his thumb rubbing along Derek’s jaw, tracing the coarse hair of his perennial beard. Derek reaches out then, apparently tired of being a passive participant and curls an arm around Stiles’ waist, pulling him closer. 

“So I was thinking,” Stiles continues and Derek rubs his nose against his belly.

“Mhm?”

“We should do something for Halloween. Maybe throw a costume party, or go out trick or treating, be really part of the community you know?” Stiles feels Derek tense up with every word until he pushes away from him slowly.

“Halloween.”

“Yes.”

“It’s a full moon,” Derek says neutrally and Stiles narrows his eyes. If Derek wanted to be obtuse about it, he would make it as hard as possible. Stiles shrugged and twirled a hand in the air in a careless gesture.

“So? You can walk around in halfsies and people will think you got a sick costume. It's a win-win situation,” Stiles continues and Derek is no longer touching him or looking at him and Stiles remembers that what Derek never seems to be able to say in words, his body seems to shout.

“No, Stiles, I mean,” he starts and breaks off, staring at the kitchen table as if the wood had all the answers, and Stiles can’t handle the anxiety that’s rolling off in waves from his hunched form.

“Were you ever going to tell me about the blue moon?” he asks without preamble and Derek looks at him surprised. He opens and closes his mouth several times.

“Oh,” he settles on at last and Stiles sighs. 

“Scott told me.”

“Scott told you.”

“Yes,” Stiles pokes him in the shoulder, “ which was as awkward and awful as it sounds and also completely avoidable if you had told me instead of moping around for the past two weeks.”

Derek frowns. “I wasn’t moping.”

“You were absolutely moping.” Stiles pokes him again. “I thought we said no secrets,” Stiles adds softly and Derek immediately reaches for him then, hands curling around his thin wrists.

“I was going to tell you. Soon. Before… before.” Derek ends up saying and then goes quiet. Stiles sighs and lifts his arms to embrace him, cradling his head close to his chest, and Derek places his hands on Stiles’ hips. 

“I’m not even really angry. You know you can tell me everything,” he says softly, fingers carding through his hair. “Including the werewolf stuff. Especially the werewolf stuff.”

“It’s not,” Derek starts and pushes gently away from Stiles, his hands on his hips flexing as if involuntarily. “Sometimes it’s hard… I don’t know…” Derek trails off again and Stiles tilts Derek’s face upwards gently.

“Okay,” he says quietly because after all their time together, he understands. Derek looks at him with almost desperation and Stiles leans down to kiss him softly because really the two of them understand each other best when they say nothing at all. He pulls back after a moment because the conversation still needs to happen and Derek is unfairly skilled at using his mouth.

“So, now that you know that I know, how about you tell me what to expect of this blue moon. Scott explained in the way that Scott explains things, which means not really at all.”

Stiles moves away enough to pull out another chair and sit down facing Derek close enough that their knees are bumping together. Derek takes one of Stiles' hands in his own, needing the contact. 

“The days leading up to the moon are not that different than a regular full moon. All my senses are heightened, smell, taste, strength,” Derek pauses for a moment and cocks his head to a side. “Maybe even a bit more than usual.”

“So everything is louder?” Stiles asks because he knows that part of the reason they live in the loft is precisely because everything around them is silent, but Derek shakes his head.

“Not louder, just more in focus, sharper. It will become more so the closer I get to the full moon.”

“You will still have to shift though, won’t you?”

“Yes, it’s a biological imperative.”

“Ah yes, the call of the wolf,” Stiles nods sagely and Derek pulls a face.

“That’s Scott’s phrasing, it doesn’t really feel that way to me.”

“Well Scott likes being dramatic.”

“I think it has more to do with the fact that Scott has a frame of reference I don’t have,” Derek says looking at their hands. The comment is a matter of fact and still, it makes something shift inside of Stiles. He curls his fingers tighter around Derek’s. 

“So what else is different about the blue moon then?”

“The full moon brings out a sort of restless energy, that’s why we have to shift, to help release it. It’s not really violent, it’s… aggressive,” Derek frowns, feeling the words inadequate to explain what it really feels like to have enough energy to run for miles, enough strength to fight for days, but Stiles is nodding as if he understands.

“The blue moon is different,” Derek continues

Stiles nods again wondering why it’s taking Derek so long to get to the point. “Okay.”

“The, ah, energy feels different.”

“Aha.”

Derek looks away slightly and Stiles watches fascinated because unless he’s completely wrong, Derek is embarrassed. 

“The blue moon is also known as the mating moon,” he finally says and Stiles can’t even believe what is happening in his life anymore.

“Oh my god you get _horny_?” Stiles blurts out and Derek looks at him in dismay.

“Stiles.”

“No, no it’s cool. My boyfriend just told me that every two years or so he goes through _pon farr._ ” 

“It’s not as if I’ll die if I don’t have sex,” Derek adds glumly and Stiles chokes on air. 

“Oh god I don’t know what’s better, that you understood my Star Trek reference or that you _schooled me in it._ ”

“Stiles,” Derek says pained and Stiles calms himself down enough to grab both of Derek’s hands because he knows that tone and he knows that Derek is probably secretly freaking out wondering if this is the one weird thing that Stiles can’t deal with. Stiles takes a deep breath and locks eyes with Derek.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says as solemnly as he can given the absurd circumstances. “I meant what I said earlier, you can always tell me everything. We are in this together, right?” Stiles asks softly his fingers pressing into Derek’s palm and watches his shoulders relax.

“Yes.”

“Good, now,” Stiles leans forward and grins wickedly, “how horny do you really get?”

***

Stiles dries his hair as he sits on their bed and checks his phone for the hundredth time in a row. There are still no messages, which he knew because his phone hasn’t rung since the last time he checked it ten seconds ago, but he can’t help it, he is stupidly nervous, which was totally so not part of his ‘Blue Moon Sex-a-thon’ plan.

Stiles looks down at himself and purses his lips at his boxers. He’d planned on waiting for Derek naked but Derek had given him an exasperated look and told him that it wasn’t that special of a night. But Stiles knew Derek-speak by now, and he knew that truth was a matter of shades and not absolutes for him. And really he couldn’t fault him because Stiles was a firm believer of the shades as well, which made moments like these so extraordinarily inconvenient since he is having a conniption about underwear.

He lets out a frustrated shout and instead goes to hang up his towel to dry in the bathroom, but stops midway when he hears a long howl cutting through the silence. Which is then followed by several other howls and it’s an eerie sort of symphony. Stiles is puzzled about it because howling is usually not part of the full moon runs and he has no doubt that it’s the pack howling and not anything else. He grabs his phone making a note to look into it and then almost drops it when it vibrates with an incoming message from Scott.

_He’s on his way back._

_Wanted to give you a heads up._

_;)_

Stiles types back a reply, refrains manfully to comment on the smiley face, and taps his fingers against his phone. He is then suddenly hit with the realization that he is literally waiting to get fucked.

“Oh my god,” stiles shouts at himself because, _no_ , and throws himself face-first into the bed. He’s nervous, even more than he was a few moments ago and he tries to reason himself out of it because really it’s just sex. Probably intense sex, with his very sexy boyfriend, who he’s been dating for two years, who he’s known for almost a decade, and it’s going to be _fine_. 

He hears another howl, this one much closer, followed by others that sound much further away. Stiles takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and waits.

And waits. 

And waits.

He checks his phone and frowns, it’s been close to twenty minutes and really it shouldn’t be taking Derek this long to get back. Restless he walks out on the balcony, shivering since he is still mostly naked and looks out. He’s gotten used to the dark and eerie quiet of the abandoned industrial park, and the view is really something, with the lights of beacon hills glittering in the distance. He stands there for a few minutes, wondering whether he should call Derek when he hears an odd sound underneath. 

He squints into the darkness and is almost convinced that it was just the cold October air but then he catches a flash of glowing blue eyes and he realizes that the noise sounds kind of like a deepthroated rumble. 

“Derek?” Stiles asks and as his eyes get used to the dark he can make out a shape moving restlessly from side to side on the ground.

Stiles thinks about it for about half a second before he runs back inside, grabbing the first shirt he finds - Derek’s, not his - his phone and the keys, before taking the elevator. He worries all the way down coming up with about twenty scenarios of what could have happened, each more horrifying than the next until he finally steps out into the lobby of the building. He runs towards the entrance, stumbling slightly since he’s still wearing his fuzzy house slippers, and steps into the cold night air.

“Derek,” he calls again, about to round the building but stops when he sees Derek just standing slightly off to a side near the door. 

“Derek,” Stiles repeats walking closer. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” he asks, dread coiling in his belly at Derek’s unmoving pose.

“Stiles,” he says in that lispy tone that denotes he’s still shifted and Stiles touches him carefully, slowly, because he doesn’t need to be a werewolf to be able to feel Derek’s anxiety.

“Hey,” Stiles says, lifting his hand to brush it against his cheek, fingers trailing over the coarse hair, the pronounced cheekbones. “Hey, it’s okay,” Stiles repeats softly, certain that something is upsetting him even if he doesn’t know what it is. Derek closes his eyes and leans forward to bury his face in Stiles' neck, but still, he doesn’t shift back.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks rubbing his cheek against Derek’s, his arms coming around to embrace him and pull him closer.

“It’s- it’s too much, I can’t-” Derek trails off and Stiles gets it suddenly, that he’s overwhelmed and nervous. Stiles lets out a breath relieved and oddly calmed by Derek’s nerves.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” Stiles brushes his lips against the corner of his mouth, tongue darting out over a fang and he feels Derek growl low in his chest. 

“Stiles-” he starts as a warning but Stiles has never been good at heeding those anyway, and he steps even closer to Derek, pressing his body against Derek’s completely.

“Come on, we had plans, didn’t we? And they did not include me standing in my underwear in the cold,” he murmurs and Derek is jolted into action, embracing him tightly, one hand coming to his neck and the other around his waist. There are still claws and Stiles knows there will be punctures and bruises but he doesn’t even care because there is nothing that Stiles hates more than Derek being afraid of himself. 

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs because Derek is warm and hard, muscles rippling and shifting under his hands, and he is nuzzling his hairline close enough to feel fangs against his neck and Stiles can’t catch his breath.

“God, take me inside,” Stiles says, his voice gone deep and Derek answers with a growl. And suddenly he’s being lifted by his hips and Stiles instinctively hitches his legs around Derek, arms circling his neck and before he fully understands what’s happening his back hits the elevator wall. 

“Oh god,” he pants dizzy with arousal and the super speed, and it’s him who suddenly feels like everything is too much. His body is a contrast of sensation, scorching hot wherever Derek is touching him and icy cold everywhere else, and Derek keeps pushing his nose into his hairline, his neck like he can’t get enough of it.

“We need-” Stiles breaks off into a groan when Derek bites down on his neck with human teeth. 

“Oh fuck, we need- the button-” he tries again part of his addled brain amazed at how they seemingly have lost the ability to operate an elevator. He unhooks his legs and pushes feebly against Derek’s chest. Derek, however, seems to interpret this move as the complete opposite and instead slides one thigh in between Stiles and kisses him.

Stiles feels his brain short circuit. It’s not nearly the first time they haven’t made it past the elevator, it’s not the first time Derek has kissed him while being clearly needy and aroused. And still, there is something different and maybe it’s the moon, maybe it’s just Derek, but Stiles lets out a pitiful needy muffled whimper and clutches at Derek’s biceps uselessly. He’s rubbing himself against Derek’s thigh, the heat and the hardness feeding his own arousal and he feels himself grow hard in seconds. Derek slides his hands down Stiles ass and encourages his movements, angles him even better, and kneads the flesh greedily. 

Derek stops kissing him to trail his mouth along Stiles' jaw and buries his nose into Stiles' soft hair behind his ear.

Stiles opens his eyes disoriented, one part of his mind insisting that there is something urgent he needs to take care of and he feels the dull ache of his keys pressing into the palm of his hand. He stares at them for a moment and then remembers that they are still in the elevator.

“Wait,” Stiles tries again, pushing at Derek’s chest, who just puffs it out like the ridiculous posturing asshole that he is and Stiles laughs. “Oh god, wait, let’s go upstairs, to our home, to our bed in our nice bedroom in our nice home,” Stiles babbles because Derek looks like he wants to kiss him again and Stiles knows that if that happens one more time, they will never make it past the elevators.

He squirms his way out of Derek’s embrace and stumbles towards the elevator doors to drag them close and pushes the button that will get them to their floor. Derek is on him before he even finishes, pressing against his back and grinding his hips against Stiles' ass.

“Oh god,” Stiles pants out holding onto the elevator gate because he can feel Derek hot and hard even through his jeans. Derek breathes against his neck before biting down on it and Stiles knows he’s going to be covered in marks.

The elevator stops and Stiles scrambles to get the doors open again, pushing away the gate and stumbling forward. Derek grabs him by the arm and turns him around, hands sliding under his shirt, his big hands running over his ribcage hot and heavy, burying his nose in Stiles' neck.

Stiles drops his keys, his phone, tries to both get to the bed and push against Derek at the same time. Derek grabs his hips and grinds them together, and it feels raw and needy in a way that he has never experienced before, he’s pretty much humping the air. He trails open mouth kisses against any surface he finds and Stiles needs more but Derek is an unmoving force. He feels his knees go weak when Derek’s teeth close over an earlobe and tugs. 

“Stiles,” Derek pants and it’s the first time he’s spoken in a while and his voice is deep and rough and it goes straight to Stiles’ dick. 

“Derek,” Stiles whimpers and suddenly he finds himself getting lifted off the ground. Between one heartbeat and the next he’s on the bed, Derek pressing him into the mattress, kissing him slow and deep and so thoroughly Stiles feels his toes curl. He arches up against Derek's hard body, just wanting more contact, more everything. 

“You have no idea,” he pants against Stiles' lips, “you have no idea what you do to me,” Derek says and Stiles wants to say that he knows, he does, because Derek makes him feel the same, but he can’t say any of it because Derek is back to kissing him like he’s drowning. 

“I want to fuck you,” Derek says and Stiles lets out a pitiful whimper. Because Derek is not like this usually, he usually prefers doing to talking and Stiles feels overstimulated.

“Yes, yes, anything you want,” he babbles instead feeling frantic and needy, rubbing himself against Derek in every place he can, spreading his legs further. Derek places a hand against his crotch and he sobs out in relief because he feels he’s been hard for hours, and Derek's hand presses down almost a touch too hard before just sliding his hand inside his boxers to squeeze him. 

“Oh fuck,” Stiles cries out squeezing his eyes shut because he is suddenly right there at the brink of orgasm and he doesn’t want to come like that. “Stop stop,” Stiles pants out, his hands pushing against Derek’s shoulders and god they are still dressed, Derek has his jacket on. “Off off, get naked,” Stiles urges tugging at the jacket. “I want you naked,” he adds because it’s suddenly what he wants the most.

Derek grunts and sits up and Stiles gets a truly pornographic view of Derek kneeling between his legs, shrugging out of his jacket and then shirt, tossing them carelessly to a side and Stiles actually moans.

“God fuck, how are you this hot,” he whines and Derek being the ridiculous asshole that he is actually _flexes_. Stiles is seriously worried he’ll come untouched and ruin it all for both of them. He sits up because he needs to kiss Derek, he needs to touch him, and he does, hands spreading over his torso even as he bites at Derek’s lips.

“You are ridiculous,” he says dazed fumbling at his jeans button, and Derek looks down, watching Stiles’ shaky uncoordinated fingers undoing his jeans and pulling down the zipper and Stiles realizes that Derek is not wearing anything underneath. 

“Oh god you are not real,” Stiles says dizzily, head bumping against Derek’s chest and he knows Derek is probably preening, but his own shirt is being tugged up and over his head. Derek pushes him back onto the bed and hooks his fingers into the waistband of Stiles boxers before he tugs them down. Stiles lifts his hips and watches Derek toss his underwear to the floor, toe off his shoes and step out of his jeans, before climbing back on top of him. 

He is immediately surrounded by heat and he arches into it helplessly. Derek always runs hot but this is more than that, this feels like a _fever_ , like he is being _consumed_. He feels Derek’s erection rubbing alongside his, doesn’t even notice his hips moving, grinding up, until Derek stills him with a hand. 

He whines and then keens when he feels Derek’s hand slide in between his legs, fingers sliding over his perineum and below. He glides inside easily and Derek blinks surprised.

“You touched yourself,” Derek says almost accusingly and Stiles feels himself flush, feeling scolded.

“I thought I’d help you out by getting ready,” he explains and his words end in a breathy hitch when Derek slides his finger in more purposely.

“Did you come?” he asks and Stiles shakes his head, hands scrabbling over the bed. 

“No, just ah- loosened myself up a b-bit,” he stammers out because Derek has found that spot that makes him jolt and is rubbing it relentlessly.

“Did you get hard?”

“God, y-yeah,” he answers and whimpers when Derek pushes one of his legs up towards his chest. He gets more slick on his hand and uses two fingers to spread him open. Stiles closes his eyes because he can feel Derek building up a rhythm, he can feel himself close to coming and he doesn’t want to yet. 

And he almost loses his resolve entirely when Derek takes him into his mouth in one swift glide. 

Stiles squirms against Derek’s mouth. “Don’t- I’ll come,” he pants out, hands tugging on Derek’s hair harder than he usually would but he is desperately close to coming. Derek laps at his tip for a few more moments before sitting back up. Stiles' relief is brief because Derek doesn’t actually stop, and holds him near the tip with just the pads of his fingers and thumb, rubbing against the taut flesh as he massages his prostate. The sensation is different, intense on the verge of too much, and Stiles feels the orgasm coiling in his belly. He shakes his head, grabs at Derek's wrist to push him away because he will come, any moment now.

“Derek, Derek,” he pants out desperate and just as he’s about to come, Derek hand circles the base of his cock tightly, and prods his prostate mercilessly. Stiles shouts out, bows forward as his hips buck and he is coming, feels it in his _brain_ and he whimpers as he falls back onto the bed because he didn’t actually ejaculate. He feels restless and dazed, and he looks down at himself. He is still achingly hard, and Derek has spread his hand on his pelvis.

Stiles wants to beg, wants to cry, wants to fuck Derek and get fucked at the same time and it’s awful the way he feels everything too much at once, but then Derek gently presses against his prostate again and it’s fire that runs through his veins. It feels not enough and too much all at once. 

“God fuck me, fuck me,” he sobs and he isn’t sure if it’s tears or sweat running down his temple but Derek leans over him to kiss and lick the dampness away before sitting back and pushing at Stiles weak body, urging him to turn over. 

He doesn’t think he can hold himself up, he feels shaky all over, but Derek grabs his hips and holds him while he positions himself to slide in. Stiles opens his mouth in a silent cry as Derek pushes in, slow and relentless, and he feels bigger, heavier somehow. Derek leans forward to push at his chest until they are both kneeling upwards, Stiles back pressed against Derek’s front, his knees spread open by Derek’s thighs. 

“You feel so big,” Stiles mumbles dazed and aroused and mostly limp, Derek is holding him up with his body and hands and dick, and Derek lets out a pleased sound. Stiles' head lolls back, his sweaty forehead resting against Derek jaw, he feels like a ragdoll while Derek grinds against him slow and deep. 

“What’s it like,” Stiles murmurs and Derek closes his eyes. 

“You smell amazing,” Derek answers, feeling heady with it, Stiles’ arousal like a thick blanket around him, enveloping him entirely. “You feel-” he starts and stops because he can’t explain what it feels like to be inside of Stiles, to feel both of their scents mixing and concentrating there. He feels home, he feels complete, he feels an overwhelming urge to possess and claim that is grating on his fraying control.

He reaches down to take a hold of Stiles dick and Stiles keens. 

“Derek, Derek,” Stiles begs, the urgency returning tenfold. He grabs Derek’s forearms flexing desperately against them. Please, please,” Stiles pants and presses open-mouthed kisses against his jaw as he bounces on Derek’s dick. Derek is holding him so tight that he can’t move much, just jerky little thrusts back and forth that are not enough. Derek growls, moves forward, topples Stiles onto the bed, and starts moving earnestly, suddenly needing for Stiles to come. Needing to feel him come.

“Don’t stop don’t stop,” Stiles pants, face planted on the bed, hands flexing uselessly against the headboard. Stiles knows he’s going to come, he can feel it in the tension low in his belly, he can feel his mind emptying even as shivery sensations seem to run up his spine down to the tips of his fingers. Derek feels like he’s slamming into him, worries distantly that it’s too much but Stiles is making a desperate keening noise and pushing back just as hard, and Derek feels it then, feels Stiles coming from just his cock, with a shout that seems pushed out of the very core of him. Stiles is almost sobbing, shaking, twitching.

Derek reaches around him again to pull him back against him, watching from over his shoulder as Stiles comes, his entire body contracting, long ropes of thick come spurting with every thrust. Stiles feels like it will never end like his body will just continue coming forever and he feels his body go numb. His ears are ringing, he can’t open his eyes, his body keeps spasming with every drag of Derek’s cock inside him. Derek buries his face in his neck, his breath ragged and desperate even as he keeps pounding into Stiles, his fingers digging into Stiles’ hips. 

Stiles lifts a hand weakly, places it against Derek's cheek, and turns to nuzzle him, nosing his jawline, overstimulated, oversensitive, on the verge of passing out.

“Come on,” he murmurs, placing a hand over Derek’s, splaying his fingers over his abdomen, “fill me up”, he keens and suddenly Derek is there. He slams in one more time and grinds against Stiles’ ass helplessly as he empties himself, and he feels like roaring, maybe he does, he knows he shifts without being able to control it and the sensations increase tenfold. Stiles’ scent is _unreal_ , heady, heavy on his tongue, he feels his heart gallop in his chest. can hear his heartbeat, can hear himself _filling Stiles up_ and he thinks he is going to die, it’s too much, he can’t stop coming, he can’t-, he can’t-

Derek loses himself for just a moment, can’t explain it in any other way, and when he comes back to himself he is pressing Stiles into the mattress, still buried deep within him. He closes his eyes, still trying to catch his breath and tries to lift himself up on shaky arms. He doesn’t get far, he feels dizzy and disoriented, filled with scent, with Stiles, his instincts whirling inside him, to claim, to protect, to cherish, to _own_. He leans his forehead between Stiles’ shoulder blades and tries to get some semblance of control back, feeling weak all over, his limbs tingling and he is distantly aware that his hips are still twitching minutely. He nuzzles into Stiles’ hairline, desperately needing the contact.

“Stiles, Stiles,” he says breathless and feels shaky, clumsy fingers at his temple. He nuzzles into the hand before it falls away limply. He makes a second attempt of lifting himself up. He’s still overwhelmed but has enough coordination in him to push up, to slide out of Stiles causing them both to shiver and twitch. He topples gracelessly to a side and immediately pulls Stiles into his arms, who lets out a deep sigh. 

Stiles doesn’t notice he dozed off until he’s awoken by Derek’s hand caressing his side. He blinks his eyes open, slowly becoming aware he is lying on Derek’s chest. He still feels like he is catching his breath when he moves to roll on his side. Derek rolls with him so they are lying face to face, legs tangled together.

Stiles lifts a hand to lay it against Derek’s cheek. “How are you feeling?” Stiles asks and Derek closes his eyes, leaning into the caress.

“I think I should be asking you.” 

Stiles gave him a dreamy, loopy smile and Derek hadn’t thought it possible for him to love this man any more than he already did, and yet here he was in bed on a blue moon, utterly drowned in adoration for him. He pulled him close and closed his eyes

“Are you alright?” Stiles asks softly, his hands running over his face, his hair, his chest. Derek lets out a satisfied, deep, burr. 

“Yes,” he says and kisses Stiles on the mouth. “Yes.” 

“ _Pon farr_ sex is the best sex,” Stiles said and Derek groaned, ready to complain only to realize that Stiles had fallen back asleep. Derek smiled, hopelessly in love, pulled the covers over them, and as dawn crept closer and the pull of the moon waned and faded into nothing, slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Google the title. You have learned a new word today. \o/
> 
> Also, I feel this is the kind of fic that should have been about knotting? *shrug*


End file.
